Save me
by 0utlier
Summary: Delena Oneshot Post 4x19, "Pictures of you." Give it a shot. Please read and REVIEW! Thank you :)) "You look at me like you can save me with those pretty blue eyes," Elena said with surprise, a quick flash of something in her eyes—a flash so quick he determined that he must have imagined it—and then nothing as they faded to black.


**(A/N Delena Oneshot Post 4x19, "Pictures of you." Please read and REVIEW! Thank you :))**

Damon Salvatore touched her arm, feeling strangely abandoned and betrayed—how could she do this to him now? Why now, in the cruelest way possible? _Because she lost her brother, _a voice sounding suspiciously like Stefan's ringing through his mind. _Because you didn't save him. _This time it was his own voice—his own guilt. If he could have saved Jeremy, maybe they'd be together now. Maybe somewhere, somehow, she'd be in his bed with his arms wrapped around her. And maybe, just maybe, she would tell him that she loved him, words that he would never grow tired of hearing. Damon wasn't sure if he'd ever hear those words again—if he'd ever know if she'd really meant them; ever know if it was just the sire bond or maybe even temporary insanity. "I guess I was stupid for thinking that I could bring you back." He laughed without humor, staring into her lifeless eyes, eyes that only brightened for seconds at a time-and usually over something sadistic like killing people and dirty dancing in the dark. Damon meant his words—some part of him had thought that his love for her was enough—that whatever she felt for him was enough—but it wasn't. _He _wasn't enough.

Elena Gilbert, in all her good girl gone bad glory turned around, skepticism in her brown eyes as she met his blue ones, something flashing in them. "I loved you once, Damon. The sire bond's gone so I can tell you what I felt. I can tell you that it wasn't a lie." Like most of her words these days they were more seductive than not, but for once there was something else there.

"And how do I know you're not trying to manipulate me?" He asked, trying to shove the fleeting hope in his heart back down before it turned him into a blithering idiot. It didn't really matter anyway—she was saying that she once had loved him, not that she did now. Not that she ever would again.

She laughed then, choosing to ignore his question—possibly because she _was _trying to manipulate him. "You look at me like you can save me with those pretty blue eyes," Elena said with surprise, a quick flash of something in her eyes—a flash so quick he determined that he must have imagined it—and then nothing as they faded to black. The way she said it—with no feeling at all, stunned him. She might as well have been trying to convince him to order pizza instead of Chinese food with the amount of emotion in her eyes. He'd been trying to give her space after so long, but all he wanted to do was take her in his arms and press his lips to hers…to try and _make _her feel something.

"Maybe I'm the one who needs saving," Damon answered—for once, telling the truth, telling her how he felt, even if it was through a message left for her to decipher. These days, he felt like he was the one who needed saving, saving from himself—his heart that refused to stop loving her. He would always love her, even if she was a monster, even if she never returned that love. He would always hold on to that night when she'd first told him that she'd loved him, that fantasy of how her eyes had lit up with that realization.

He finally gave in barring any more hesitation, cupping her face in his hands and pulling her close to him, his lips on hers, sweltering and zealous. Elena kissed him back, and for a second it felt the same as it had that night that they'd given in to each other, full of love and lust and fight and fervor—the kind that made it clear that they were the only person you were supposed to kiss for the rest of your life. That thing, that moment where the world around you became hazy and the only thing in focus was you and that person. The hardest habit to break and the most difficult to satisfy. Damon knew that he'd done it for all the wrong reasons—not just to show her how he felt but because he _could. _Still, it was wonderful, filled with release—he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

But then it was over, all too fast. Elena brushed her lips against his seductively, in a way that was both sexy and daring. He could feel her warm breath touch his skin and see the way her body curved under her gorgeous prom dress, caressing all the right places. She leaned in, as if she was telling him a secret. "I feel nothing for you, Damon," Elena said, her sweet voice almost teasing. "I _am _just trying to manipulate you, you lovesick fool. You are right. You can't save me." She paused for a second. "It was always Stefan all along…"

_It was always Stefan all along…_

And then she was gone. Damon stared after her longingly, trying to comprehend the agony that was suddenly ripping through him at her words. _She doesn't sound like Katherine, _he thought. _She should sound like Katherine. _But she didn't, and that was worse. It wasn't Katherine, it was _Elena. _She was the one saying and doing these things. It wasn't Katherine's taunting voice…it was something entirely different.

Damon tried to control his face, but when Bonnie glanced over at him with a look of sympathy, he knew he'd failed. They watched Elena walk across the room and fall right into his brother's arms, her lips brushing against his as light as a whisper, almost like an invitation. "She…" Bonnie began in disbelief, "she's _gone._" He couldn't nod in agreement, couldn't write Elena off, couldn't tear his eyes off her…and couldn't convince himself that it was a dream, either, because he finally had his answer, he finally knew that without a doubt that he was _not _enough to bring her back. He'd never been enough for her. For the rest of his life he would be the impulsive vampire in love with his brother's girl…and she was gone. Completely and eternally gone. _I feel nothing for you, Damon._

Elena Gilbert would never come back to him because for her, after all she'd—they'd—been through, it was just better not to feel. It was easier that way.

xxx

Elena couldn't take anymore. She couldn't stand to see the pain in Damon's blue eyes or the hope in Stefan's, hopes that she would come back and love him like she loved Damon, or had loved Damon. Damon was an entirely different matter altogether—she'd seen him watching her with those eyes, seen the agony in them. Elena had known that he'd been repeating her words all night, repeating her lies in his head until there was no chance of saving either of them. He'd kissed her with such passion, such fire…how could she feel nothing from that?

As soon as she'd been given a chance, she'd fled. She stood in the cemetery, her long, flowing fuchsia dress touching the ground and getting stained by the grass—not that she cared. Elena wasn't sure what she was doing here, but here she was anyway. She tried to make sense of her head, but everything was jumbled; it felt like she was falling. Falling…falling…falling… Falling with each time she hurt her friends; the only people she had left to care about, falling with each time she came to the realization that she'd done something unforgivable. Falling when she realized that none of them would ever forgive her, even if she did what they asked; _Damon _would never forgive her.

"You were supposed to be here!" Elena shouted, the outburst not doing anything to dampen the boiling emotions in her—emotions that she tried to shove back down. She didn't want to feel—she was _so _done with feeling. She wanted to stay how she was—calm in control. But tonight's events had her feeling anything _but _in control and that was the problem—she _was_ feeling. She was feeling pain and anger and most of all, guilt. Oh, the guilt. Guilt for how she'd treated Damon, the unforgiveable things she'd said. Guilt for playing with Stefan. Trying to kill Caroline. Bonnie. All the people she'd killed and played with, as if they were all her pawns. And most of all, guilt for not saving Jeremy in the first place, for failing him. "You were supposed to take care of us," she said, her voice quieter now. Tears started running down her cheeks and she clasped her abdomen to soften the pain, but it didn't work.

The curls in her hair had fallen out considerably, and the black makeup she'd put on earlier covered her face from the moisture. The pain worsened when she read the name on the tombstone: Alaric Saltzman. _Alaric Saltzman was loved, _it'd said, a series of dates below it. "And now, Jeremy's dead and it's my fault, and I hurt Damon—God, I knew exactly what to say and did it for no reason at all, just out of spite. I was angry at him for holding on to me, for hoping… I had to make him give up because I'm _not _coming back. And Caroline and Bonnie…I don't want to be like this anymore." Her words were hysterical, most of it not making sense. They ran together and went off in slurs, and none of it relieved her. It didn't matter how much of her she revealed—none of it mattered. "My parents are dead. Jenna's dead. _You're_ dead. _Jeremy's _dead. I don't want to be like this anymore. I don't want to be alone, Ric…" She felt it all coming back. She felt _alive. _And it hurt. It hurt _so _badly.

Elena couldn't blame her parents. They'd been gone before any of this started—they hadn't left her in a world like this. She couldn't even blame Jenna or John who hadn't had the time to stay with her. But Alaric she could because he'd made the choice to die, he'd made the choice to leave her. Of course, the universe had said it hadn't been his choice after all, but he'd still chosen to leave them. Her and _Jeremy. _If he'd still been here, maybe Jer wouldn't have died. If he'd still been here, maybe she wouldn't have been so alone.

"Elena," someone said in the darkness, his voice familiar—and kind. Before her eyes something materialized that scarcely made sense, had no rhyme or reason. It was impossible, yet it was what she saw. _He _was what she saw. Tears were falling faster now, and her mouth opened, but she couldn't speak.

Damon suddenly appeared, his light eyes filled with kindness and also sadness. Pain. He looked so sad, so devastated. Elena began trembling, beginning to lose it. "Damon?" She asked, her voice broken, thick with emotion and pain.

Elena found solace in his arms—they did not speak, didn't ask any questions, just let themselves…be. It felt completely natural, and even though she had no reason to believe that he would ever forgive her or that anything would ever be okay again, for just a second, a small, fraction of a second she felt safe. Safe no one from whatever she was feeling, safe from the world around her… safety in a way that no one else could give her.

And even though both of their hearts were so distant from one another, somehow they were still underneath the same moon—and that was enough.

**(R&R!)**


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